


together, let's make the season bright

by fitzcamebacktome



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Jack frost au, Rise of the Guardians AU, but mild angst, holiday fluff, it's heavily inspired by jack frost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 12:59:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17305070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitzcamebacktome/pseuds/fitzcamebacktome
Summary: Fitz has spent a life of solitude as Jack Frost. No one believes in him, so no one can see him. Until one day, he meets Jemma Simmons and lo and behold, she can see him; changing his life for forever.





	together, let's make the season bright

**Author's Note:**

> A Fitzsimmons Secret Santa fic for Alice or [@lunarlovegood](https://lunarlovegood.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! Hope you had a great Christmas and New Year! This was such a blast to write and I'm excited for you to read the rest! 
> 
> Many many thanks to Mel AKA [whatlighttasteslike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitingforeleven/pseuds/whatlighttasteslike) / [@jemmafitzsimmons](http://jemmafitzsimmons.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and Alana / [@authoralanaturner](https://authoralanaturner.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for all of your help! I wouldn't have been able to get this done without you! I appreciate the help so much (:

 

Everyone believes in something. Whether it's Santa Claus, soul mates, that the number thirteen is unlucky, or that breaking a mirror will give you years of bad luck. Over time, those beliefs can change, even fade away. But there's one belief that universally no one ever seemed to have, which was believing in Fitz.

To the world, Fitz was known as ‘Jack Frost’. How that happened, he didn’t really know. One story was told and then through generations it was changed and twisted to what it was today. Which, according to some, ‘Jack Frost’ was snow, ice, frost, and everything else cold all wrapped up together and personified. They’re wrong on that aspect. He may be able to control and cause all of those things, but Fitz knew he was not a personification of those elements.

Some also thought he was a different version of ‘Old Man Winter.’ This always made him scoff. It made him sound like a wise old man who had grown wrinkled from age. He may admit to having similar qualities of an old man from time to time. With his white curls that shone silver in just the right lighting, along with how long he had been around for didn’t help his argument, that was simply far from the case. Fitz was still young at heart.

Others thought of him to be a sprite-like mischief maker or at the very least some type of hero. Both things he knew he wasn’t.

Fitz stood with one hand on his hip and the other held his frosted wooden staff across his shoulder. He looked around at all the passerbyers. People wore festive shirts and chatted about vacations and get-togethers. One man speed-walked across the pavement, his arms overflowing with presents, while a little girl bounced eagerly on her toes, dragging her mother into a store. It was getting close to the holidays, so some shops in town had already been fully decked out with lights and decorations. He drew his attention down to his bare feet, wiggling his toes in the vibrant green grass, his nose wrinkling as it tickled. There was one thing missing during all of this. _And that just wouldn’t do._ He grinned to himself.  
  
Fitz took off in a run, dashing in and out of all the people, dragging his staff behind him. As he ran, his staff covered the ground in ice full of swirling patterns. Moments like this always brought him such joy. He paused with his head cocked to the side to watch as a teenage boy began to slip on the ice. The girl he had been walking with quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him to her, crashing against each other. The guy held onto her shoulders and pulled away to look at her. They began laughing and he drew her into what Fitz knew was a kiss.

Fitz scratched the back of his head, looking away. During this brief moment, he didn’t seem to notice the little boy skipping right towards him. His breath caught in his throat. Despite the fact that Fitz was always cold, it never stopped his body from sending a shiver down his spine anytime someone phased right through him.

He shook his head to collect himself before continuing his previous agenda. His plan was to just get the town ready for the holidays coming up—cold enough for people to need to wear cozy ugly matching sweaters, but not too much to delay or cancel holiday flights. _Not yet._  
With the earlier ordeal with the skipping boy completely forgotten now, Fitz eventually came to a stop in front of a large shop window, and with his staff, he began to paint it with swirls of ice as he laughed to himself.

“You’re him!” a sudden voice yelled to his right. With a startled yelp, Fitz tripped over his own feet, landing with a thump on the ground, his staff landing next to him. He grumbled to himself but as he looked up, any sort of cutting retort he was about to make immediately died on his lips as a woman giggling into her hand came into his view. He stared wide eyed at her, blinking away tears.

“You're laughing at me.” He realized he must have said it out loud as he watched the woman’s humored expression quickly turn to one of guilt.

“Oh dear, I'm terribly—”

“No, you don’t understand,” he cut in, rapidly shaking his head, “You’re laughing at _me_ .” Fitz let out a disbelieving laugh as his mouth curled into a wide smile. “ _You can see me_ .”  
  
“Well, that’s a silly thing to say. Of course I can see you.” With that, the woman offered her hand to him.

Fitz simply blinked at her outstretched hand. He must have been staring too long, because she wiggled her fingers at him, giving him a kind, encouraging smile with a small nod. He returned a small sheepish one back. Grabbing a hold of his staff with one hand, he hesitantly reached for hers, grasping it in his own. His breath hitched as his skin welcomed the comfort of warm flesh for the first time in years. Completely distracted, he stumbled forward into the woman as she pulled him up. Fitz’s eyes widened as his thoughts brought him back to the younger couple from earlier. He quickly scrambled back, detangling himself and apologizing.

“You're really him,” the woman said, shaking her head in astonishment and letting out a quiet laugh. “You’re Jack Frost,” she said in awe while Fitz cringed.

“Yeah. Yup. That's me.” He scratched at the back of his neck and then placed his hand in his hoodie pocket.

“I’m Jemma. Jemma Simmons.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, tilting his head to the side. “You’re new here.”

“How can you tell?”

“‘Cause I know everyone around here,” he said, motioning with his staff at everyone surrounding them, “and I _definitely_ would have recalled seeing _you_.”

Jemma’s cheeks began to turn red as she quickly looked away.

“I would have remembered an interaction like this,” he explained, “since I’ve never experienced one with any of them.”

She frowned. “Not one single person?”

He looked down at his feet, shrugging. “None of them can see me.”

“That's ridiculous, I can see you.”

“Because you believe in me.” He flicked his eyes up at her. Her face fell as her mouth formed an ‘O.’  
  
After a moment, her face brightened as a small smile bloomed on her face. “This is really your first time _ever_ interacting with someone?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You're um… you're doing quite well.” She moved a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“Oh,” He raised his brows in surprise. “That's um -- that's good. Yeah. Good.” He nodded, clearing his throat.

“I’m visiting here,” Jemma suddenly said.

Fitz’s shoulders slumped as his face certainly did nothing to hide his disappointment. The first person he ever interacted with was soon going to be gone as quickly as she had appeared, leaving him alone once more.

“I’ll be leaving the day after Christmas,” she explained. Fitz simply hummed in response, looking everywhere but at her. “But I’m visiting because I’ll be moving out here.”

Fitz immediately perked up, whipping his head to look at her. Jemma bit her lip, but couldn’t help it as her face formed into a smile. “Do you want me to show you ‘round?” he suggested. He bounced on his heels, suddenly feeling giddy.

Jemma let out a laugh at his excitement. “I’d greatly appreciate that.” He gave her a wide smile in response.  
  
Picturing what he’s seen other people do, he reached out, grabbing her hand in his, and began to start walking. The chill from his skin instantly welcomed the warmth from hers once again. Behind him, Jemma let out a surprised squeak. Startled, Fitz stopped and quickly turned towards her with a question on his face.  
  
“Your hand… is freezing.” He looked down at their hands clasped together. Letting out a quiet apology, he began to pull his hand away but Jemma quickly wrapped her other hand around his. “It’s alright, it just caught me off guard for a moment. I suppose it makes sense that you’d be cold _all_ the time and not just the one time.”  
  
“ _But…_ ” He began to say, his voice hinted with a touch of concern as he flicked his eyes back and forth from Jemma to their hands.  
  
“I _promise_ , it’s okay.” She gave him a warm smile, squeezing his hand. His eyes locked on to their hands, the feeling having given him a sense of comfort he had never felt before. A smile began to spread on his face as he dragged his eyes back up to Jemma’s.  
  
“Okay,” Fitz said with a nod and proceeded to start walking once more.

“Jack Frost is about to take me on a tour around town **,** ” Jemma said more to herself. He paused for a brief moment again, his entire body tensing up as he gripped his staff tighter. She frowned. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Acting as if you're in physical pain every time I say ‘Jack Frost’?”

He clenched his jaw, fighting everything in him to not react. “I'm, um -- I'm -- I'm not doing that?” His voice went up an octave higher. Jemma let go of his hand to cross her arms, raising her brow. He immediately missed the heat from it. He sighed deeply, running his hand down his face. “I would much prefer it if you'd call me Fitz.”

“ _Fitz?_ ” she said, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

“It -- It’s my name,” he explained. “My _former_ name. Who I used to be. I don’t know much about who I was,” he shrugged, holding his staff closer to himself, “but that -- that’s one of the only things I remember.” Jemma gave him a sympathetic look.  
  
“Okay, Fitz,” she said softly, curling her arm around his, “lead the way.” He stood up straighter, puffing out his chest, and walked her forward.  
  
He told her about the in-depth history of everything he could think of to show her: the things he had been there for, the things he had overheard through the years. The best part was that she seemed to eagerly soak up all the information, asking him questions when she wanted to know more. He made her laugh by telling her about stories that never made it into history books due to it being too embarrassing. As he told her these things, a thought came to him in the back of his head: he was the only one still alive who remembered all of this to tell the tales, instead of pieces of paper and engravings on statues. It was a bittersweet feeling, but he shook that thought from his mind, not wanting to put a damper on Jemma’s excitement.  
  
They came to a stop in front of the place Fitz always tried to avoid as much as he could. But no matter how hard he tried, his feet always led him here. Without thinking he squeezed Jemma’s hand as a way to seek solace.  
  
“What’s this?”  
  
“This is, uh…” He let go of her hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “This is the town pond. I freeze this over every year for everyone so they can ice skate on it. It’s too soon for that right now, though.” His eyes seemed to drift to his reflection, locking in place. The bottom of the pond seemed to go on for forever. His eyes glazed over as memories flashed in his mind.  
  
“ _Fitz._ ” Jemma’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.  
  
“What?” he asked, blinking his eyes, dazed and confused. He hadn’t realized that his heart had began to race and his breathing had quickened.  
  
“Are you alright?” Her face was full of concern. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure if he wanted to answer her or not.  
  
“I… water makes me anxious,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He tried to focus on calming himself down.  
  
“Another memory from your past life?” He didn’t need to answer, she could likely read it in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. Fitz immediately tensed up, not used to so much commiseration. Thinking about what people normally did in this situation, he cautiously brought his arms around her. Jemma only held onto him tighter. He might not be used to so much physical affection—it was almost overwhelming, especially all in one day— but he would be damned if he didn’t admit that it felt extremely satisfying. Having never realised he had been craving physical touch for so long, he found himself burying his face into her shoulder as she ran her hand over his back. Taking a calming breath, Fitz felt himself immediately relax into her embrace.  
  
“Thank you,” he murmured into her shoulder. He felt Jemma pat his back a few times before pulling away to look up at him.  
  
“I think it’s best we leave and worry about this pond later, yeah?” He could see she meant it. When he was ready, he would tell her about his troubled feelings.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“So, for now, let’s just walk around the town.” She slipped her hand back into his. “I think it still needs some more of your touch,” she teased.  
  
“Oh, really?” he answered, raising his brow, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.  
  
“I think I might have distracted you,” she said regretfully while biting her lip. Fitz simply hummed in acknowledgement, looking around the town and noticing that she was right.  
  
“Well, it was worth it.” He shrugged like it was nothing, and then motioned with his staff. “This is an easy fix.” When he didn’t receive a response from Jemma, he looked at her to find she was already staring at him with an expression on her face that he didn’t recognize. For some reason, it made warmth bloom in his chest.  
  
++  
  
“You know,” Fitz said as they walked down the pavement, “you probably look like a mad person to everyone, holding onto air.” He motioned with his head to their hands, giving them a little swing.  
  
“Then let them think I’m mad,” she replied. Fitz laughed as Jemma grinned before asking her about herself. Doing his best to keep up, he listened intently as she told him things he didn’t quite understand. She explained how she was a biochemist and got her PhD early, which he assumed was a huge accomplishment. Sheffield is her birthplace and she visits there whenever she can. Since Jemma had been in school ahead of those her age, she didn’t make a lot of friends. He knew what that was like - to feel isolated in the middle of a crowd. Fitz learned with interest that she had passed through Scotland once as a child, fascinated by one of the cottages in Perthshire, but had never found the right person she wanted to settle down there with.  
  
They were on their way towards where Jemma was staying, and before they knew it, it was dark enough that the town soon came to life as it lit up in color.  
  
A sudden thought occurred to Fitz, causing him to stop walking. “Now hold on a minute,” he said, folding his arms across his chest while he narrowed his eyes at Jemma. “You’re telling me, as someone who _firmly_ believes in science, you just happen to believe in some guy who _controls the weather_?”

“You don’t control all of the weather,” she responded quietly, biting her bottom lip.

He rolled his eyes. “ _Jemma._ ”

She let out a sigh. “My father constantly told me stories about you. He kept me believing in you. But there was one night in late December when he had taken me out to look at the stars after I had scoliosis surgery. I was upset because the forecast had called for no snow. How could there be _no snow_ in December? So there we were, outside with our heads looking up to the sky watching the stars, and before I knew it, a snowflake landed on my nose.”

Just as Fitz was about to respond, Jemma held her finger up, silencing him. “Now, I don’t want you to tell me if that was you or not. But just know, after that happened, I always believed in you. Even while everything in the entire world, including science, was telling me it was logically impossible.”

“I owe him one then, your father. He sounds like a great guy.”

Her face immediately fell. “He was.”

Fitz almost wasn’t sure he had heard her right, she had said it so quietly. “Jemma--”  
  
“It’s alright.” She sniffled, looking down at her feet. “It was a year ago. But he’s why I’m here.”

Fitz furrowed his brows. “Why would he be the reason you would want to move to _Glasgow_?” Jemma gave him a wobbly smile through the tears that had began to gather in her eyes.  
  
“In time, I’ll tell you why.” He bit back the groan that was threatening to escape, wanting to know the answer now as the curiosity ate away at him. Instead, he decided to be respectful and gave her a simple _okay._  
  
With that, she had grown silent, as their route to Jemma’s living quarters grew closer. Fitz found that he hated seeing her look this sad, especially after their day today. So he stood up straight, clearing his throat. “You know how people say that every single snowflake is unique in it’s own way?” She looked at him with a twinkle of interest in her eyes, nodding her head.  
  
“Not that that’s scientifically possible, I mean the mere thought of--” He silenced her by raising a finger. He grinned, giving her a look that said _just watch and see_.

Leaning his staff on himself, Fitz closed his eyes, cupping his hands close to his face while concentrating on thinking only about Jemma. Which was far from difficult, considering that's where his thoughts automatically wanted to go. He pictured her smile, the way her nose crinkled, her laugh, and how her eyes lit up when she spoke about something she loved. He blew on his hands, forming the snowflake. He’d made it bigger than a normal one, so she could properly see it. He heard Jemma gasp as he blinked his eyes open. Fitz swirled his finger around, making the snowflake circle his hand before letting it drift to hers as they started to walk side by side again.

“What does this one represent?” she asked with wide eyes full of wonder.

“You,” he said with a shrug, as if to say _what else would it be?_

“Fitz, it's beautiful.”

“Yeah.” he said breathlessly, staring in awe at her. Moving his finger in a discreet quick motion, he guided the snowflake to swarm around her head before landing on her nose. He watched as it brought joy to her face - he knew that it would, as his magic, if you could call it that, always did - and she let out a laugh, smiling wide.

“Thank you for this. For everything today,” she said earnestly while staring at him intensely.

Fitz flicked his eyes down. “Don’t mention it.” He quickly looked back up at her to give her a shy smile.

Looking around, Jemma seemed to frown for a brief moment. “This is my stop.” His face fell. She sounded as disappointed as he felt.

“Okay.” He scratched at his ear, unsure of what to do. Jemma rocked on the balls of her feet, appearing to be thinking something over in her mind.

“Goodnight, Fitz.” Before he knew what was happening, she had placed a kiss on his cheek and then darted towards the door, not even giving him time to respond in any way. His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. He watched her as she unlocked her door before pausing with her hand on the knob. She looked back at him one final time, a smile on her face before finally going inside.

“Goodnight, Jemma,” he said in a whisper. For once, he knew what it was like to feel warm all over.


End file.
